


The Greatest Rick of them All

by RareRow35



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Depression, Epic Friendship, Family Fluff, Family Secrets, M/M, Major Illness, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 19,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7320880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RareRow35/pseuds/RareRow35
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morty has a surprise for Rick's birthday, but birthdays are the last thing Rick wants to celebrate this year. Morty's not letting that keep him from giving Rick a present he made himself. What follows winds up surprising everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, you've made it to chapter 1 of "The Greatest Rick of them All". You can find future chapters first over at my account at Fanfiction.net under the name "Sillycritter". This story will offer a copious amount of insight into Rick's past. (Needless to say, it won't be easy.) (Please pay close attention to trigger warnings in note tags! This story can get pretty intense.) Enjoy, Be Safe and Happy Reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "Rick and Morty". They belong to the Wonders of the Universe that are Dan Harmon, Justin Roiland and Adult Swim. Thanks for this awesome show you guys from the bottom of my heart! You rock!!! (Can't wait for Chapter 3!) "Ooooo-weeee!" :-D

Morty was getting nervous.

More so than he was usually nervous.

Rick's birthday was just around the corner and he wanted to give him something...special, to show his appreciation of how much his life had improved since Rick's arrival. He never would have gotten the chance, let alone the courage, to go on these trips, and he wanted to do something to let Rick know he was grateful. (Secretly...more than grateful. He was relieved to have the first friend he'd had in...well...it sounded pathetic but...years.)

He'd made something himself and he was anxious for the day to arrive. It was a surprise and he was proud of the fact he'd come up with the idea all by himself. It had come together almost flawlessly and he couldn't be happier with the outcome.

Now...if only Rick would feel the same way...it would be one of the happiest moments of his life.

It took all of his strength not to blurt out the secret and give everything away. To make matters worse Rick was in a sour mood worse than usual. He'd gone on a couple of runs lately that hadn't turned out as well as he'd hoped; they'd been ambushed and lost most of their loot in the process-and this had happened twice, all in the span of one week. Meanwhile, Rick seemed to be drinking more heavily than usual, and this worried Morty, but he knew better than to bring it up; it was an unspoken rule not to mention Rick's substance abuse habits. He also seemed bizarrely focused on examining himself in the mirror, which Morty found extremely odd, because Rick's appearance didn't exactly suggest fine grooming.

"Damn gray hairs," Morty had heard him mutter to himself more than once, when he thought nobody could hear him. It hadn't gone unnoticed to Morty that Rick wasn't as agile and spirited as he'd been when he'd first arrived. Even though Morty was certain that Rick had to be at least over 80, it seemed that Rick's sense of mortality was catching up to him. It was one of the reasons that Rick had been more grumpy than usual (he hadn't been able to outrun their ambushers) and it was as if he was just noticing he wasn't the youngest guy driving a spaceship all over the universe. Somehow, the concept of age had managed to escape Rick for awhile, and now, it was becoming painfully clear he was no longer in his prime.

It saddened Morty to think of Rick secretly obsessing over his age. He hoped his present would cheer Rick up and get him out of this strange funk he was in.

The day of Rick's birthday, Rick sat down as usual to eat with the family, only to leave shortly after breakfast was served. It was mainly Jerry's fault, as his son-in-law not only had bad comic timing, but didn't have any kind of sense of what to say to "old guys" on their birthday.

"How's the view?" Jerry had greeted his father-in-law as he sat down to eat.

"What view?" Rick scowled questioningly in Jerry's direction.

"From the top," Jerry snickered.

" 'Top'?" Rick's eyes narrowed discerningly and with growing suspicion.

"Yeah, the top," Jerry replied as casually as possible without looking up from his game, "you know, of the hill? Because by now you must have had a lot of time to appreciate it!"

A sharp clang caused Jerry to practically jump right out of his skin. "What," Rick hissed darkly, "does that...mean?"

"Well...haha...not like you're...uh...getting any...younger," Jerry chuckled with a profusely red blush, as he grew quickly aware of his unfortunate mistake. Now it was too late to backtrack.

"JERRY!" Beth gasped, staring wide-eyed at her husband. "Dad-just ignore him," she pleaded quickly to her father, who was sliding himself out from the table in a huff, "he doesn't realize what he's saying-"

"Geeze, people! It was a joke!" Jerry exclaimed with exasperation, "Man, Rick, I'd think that of all people you would understand, you know, being the genius you are and all-"

"SHUT UP," Rick snarled as he swung around to spit with abandon in his son-in-law's face, "JERRY!" before abruptly storming off, leaving the rest of the family wide-eyed and stunned into an awkward and painful silence.

It was a while before Morty found himself able to breath again. "I-I'll be right back," he excused himself, "I...gotta use the bathroom."

"Jeeze," Summer muttered as she typed away on her phone, "What the hell's the matter with him?"

xXx

Morty actually did have to use the bathroom, but he couldn't help but make a quick beeline to the garage door. He was about to prop open the door when a loud CLANG startled him freezing him in place-peeking through the door, his heart began racing with fear as he watched Rick-a man he looked up to, and admired-having what appeared to be a complete and utter...meltdown. Rick was going ballistic. His grandfather had kicked over the desk, items strewn about everywhere but it didn't seem like Rick even noticed or cared. He tore items from shelves, unleashing an almost unearthly growl as he did so. Morty's heart dropped to his toes as he watched Rick repeatedly connect his foot with the bookshelf, tearing books from the shelves and ripping them apart.

Morty watched, horrified, as Rick slumped to the floor and, to Morty's stifled gasps of horror, his grandfather sat in a crouched position, put his head in his hands, and...

...unable to help himself...

...sobbed quietly, brokenly, into his own arms.

Morty was more than a little shocked. He had never seen his grandfather portray such emotion. He'd almost wondered at times if Rick was capable of tears...but this...this was something he wasn't prepared for at all.

Heart thumping wildly in his chest, Morty backed slowly away from the door, knowing he'd probably only make things worse if Rick knew he'd witnessed...everything. He stole back down the hall and into the bathroom (he'd almost forgotten he actually had to use it). When he returned to the dining room table, it seemed like nobody had any idea what had occurred just then in the garage, as breakfast continued as though nothing strange had happened.

And it just about broke Morty's heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "Rick and Morty". They belong to Dan Harmon, Justin Roiland and Adult Swim.

Morty did his best to keep himself busy and out of Rick's hair for the rest of the day. His plan was to leave the gift in the garage after Rick-and everyone else-had gone to sleep. That night he stayed awake until he could hear Rick's snores through the wall, and very carefully-so as not to disturb anyone's slumber-crept stealthily down the hallway and into the dark garage.

He'd put the gift inside a box which he'd wrapped carefully in black giftwrap, complet with bowtie, and an envelope which contained a short handwritten letter. He'd left both on Rick's workbench and returned back to his room (thankfully without incident). Exhausted, he crawled gratefully into bed and slept the sleep of the just.

The next morning Morty ate his cereal and milk and drank his orange juice at warp speed and left for the corner bus stop earlier than usual. (He didn't want to face Rick until he'd opened the gift.) The whole day, Morty could barely concentrate. All he could think about was the gift...and hope for the best.

When he got home, Morty didn't go to the garage. Instead, he got himself a Pop-Tart and some milk and made a beeline for his bedroom. He told his parents, when they called him to dinner, he lied and said he was tired, and that he'd eat in his room; quite generously, his mother brought him a tray. (He'd let Rick come to him.)

By the time night had fallen and Rick still hadn't appeared, Morty felt his heart sink: maybe Rick just didn't even care that he'd given him a gift. He knew what he had to do then, and he pushed himself towards the door, and headed down the hallway towards the garage.

The light was still on. Morty peered inside, and saw his grandfather working hard on a project. He had his special glasses on that he used, the kind that had a microscope attached, which made the minute details easier to explore; he was clearly concentrating on whatever he was doing very hard, and like always, took his projects very seriously.

The present and envelope were gone.

Had he even looked at them? (Or worse...had he maybe even thrown them….away?) Morty's heart skipped a beat at the thought.

Cautiously, timidly, he knocked, three times, on the doorway. (He always knocked three times; it was how Rick knew it was him without distraction.)

"Wha-whatYURP is it, MOURGHty?"

It was hard to tell if Rick was annoyed or pleased to see him; Rick had seemed to be annoyed easily at a lot of things lately….so Morty went in. As he entered, the stench of alcohol immediately filled his nose, as the scorchingly strong smell seemed to fill the entire room. It was so strong even his nose hairs stung a little from the smell. He also noticed the room smelled like fresh cigarettes, and the air was a little smoky as well; he had to wave his hand in front of his face to clear it….he saw the ash tray on the table, where the butt of a cigarette was still glowing.

"Hey, when did you….start uh...smo-smoking?" Morty ventured to ask, as he tried to peer over at what his grandfather was working on.

He immediately regretted it, as Rick swung around and glared at him, clearly irritated by the question and by no means wanting to answer it. Without a blink of his eye Rick demanded, "YoURP DO realize that I'm in, in the middle of something really significant here, right?"

"Yeah, I saw. Whatcha working on?" Morty quickly hopped on the stool next to Rick, who rolled his eyes heavily as he continued to tinker away. (He wasn't going to let Rick's attitude stop him from getting to the point.)

"A revolutionary concept Morty called 'None Of Your Damn BusURPness'-now stop bug-bugging me already, I'm, I'm on the brink of a breakthrough here," Rick snapped back a bit more harshly than he'd intended. At the sight of Morty's crestfallen eyes, he decided not to add whatever else he was thinking at that moment and continued with his work.

"S-sorry Rick. It's just that….ummmm…." Morty nervously looked around the room, anxiously trying to locate the gift, or the box, or the giftwrap even, but could find neither.

"Morty-" Rick shifted on his workbench and turned with exasperation towards his grandson, "whatever's on your mind-you better blurt it out right now-because this 'angsty Emo kid-silent treatment thing' is getting reeeUGHally old."

"Sorry Rick-it's just that I uh, I-uhhhh-"

"Spit it out Mortimer for Chrissakes….you're not being graded for good dictURGHtation, okay? This isn't your YURP after-school speech therapy class-just OUT with it already and please just friggin' ReLAX-because you know, you, you're making my skin want to friggin IMPLODE-"

"IjustcameinbecauseIwantedtoknowifyougotthegiftIleftforyoubecauseI-ImadeitmyselfandI-Iwantedtoknowifyou-"

"WOAAAA-hold up, hold up-HOLD IT right there!" Rick dropped his tools to the table and swung around with alarm, "Slooowww dowwwn, Mortimer, and say that….sentence-if you want to even call it that-again."

"I...wanted to know if….you liked….the….the-the gift?" Morty twiddled his thumbs, avoiding Rick's eyes at all costs.

An awkward silence greeted him in response. When Morty looked up, Rick had turned away from him and was once again fiddling with his invention. "R-Rick…?" Morty prompted, his heart beating wildly in his chest with anticipation. "Did….did you like my gift?"

Again, that stony silence, followed by a sentence that was like a slap in the face: "I-I really don't know what you're talking about, Morty."

It was spoken as casually as if they were talking about what next to watch on TV, or something boring on the news. It left a lump in Morty's throat…...and a feeling of overwhelming despair, because...it meant that Rick had probably either thrown it away or-maybe even worse-had looked at it and already forgotten about it.

Morty tried to respond, to explain what he meant, but the words wouldn't leave his lips, no matter how hard he tried.

"L-look Morty, I-I gotta get back to work," Rick said flatly from over his shoulder, "Could….could you just let me focus for, for awhile? I-I'll have to check in with you later."

At that, Morty's shoulders slumped in complete and utter defeat, and he slowly backtracked his way out of the garage, making sure to close the door completely behind him like Rick always wanted. Fighting back tears, he retreated silently towards his bedroom and collapsed on his bed, after which he soon fell into a restless and dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Rick spent the majority of his birthday drinking alone at a bar off-world. The bartender was the kind of guy who would buy you free drinks if he knew it was your birthday, but Rick decided to forgo that offer this year. (The last thing he wanted was to be the center of attention on a day he wished didn't exist.)

It was when he'd laid down the tab and was turning to leave that the bartender (could never remember his name) called out jovially, "Hey Sanchez, keep your money-today's a freebie. Happy Birthday!"

Rick halted in place; a sickening wave of disgust filled his aging bones at the well wishes. "Birthday's passed," he grunted, "several months ago." With that he continued to shuffle his way for the door-but the bartender wasn't giving up.

"C'mon Sanchez-that's a lie and you know it!"

"The name's Rick." He practically hissed it as he turned cold glaring eyes in the bartender's direction (the bartender's face immediately turned ghost white) "Not 'Sanchez'. And by the way...I don't do "backsies'."

"Okay okay," the bartender said, holding hands up in a truce, "fine, I'll keep the money."

"Wise choice," Rick snorted, "because this dump could REUGHlly use it." Before the bartender could respond he pushed his way out the door and into the blinding alien sunlight.

Back at home, after parking the ship in the garage and practically falling out of it, Rick nearly walked into his work table on his way out the door. Something fell off the table, and he somehow managed to bend down enough to pick it up, all without vomiting all over himself in the process.

What he found in his hand nearly made him vomit, but he managed to hold it back-only just-because in his hand was a gift-wrapped box, complete with bowtie and an envelope taped to it. Rick blinked at the object several times before, in spite of himself, slowly unraveling the item inside.

What he found inside made his heart skip a beat: it was, to his surprise, a photo album, made out of white plastic and decorated with fancy writing and the title: "Our Adventures". The discovery caused Rick to half-slump, half-fall into a nearby chair, realizing that this was from Morty-and it was a collection, carefully placed strategically and in accurate order, from their first adventure until now. Rick's eyes misted over and his hand trembled as he flipped carefully through the neatly arranged pages.

Pictures floated by his vision: images of himself and his grandson on all kinds of crazy adventures: like when they'd visited the Mega Trees (Morty had proudly taken a picture of himself wearing his special boots, with Rick scaling one of the Mega Trees in the background); another was of when he'd first taken Morty flying-Morty had taken a picture of them both in the front of the ship during the flight-how had he not noticed?). It seemed Morty'd had a camera with him the whole time, and was documenting his most important moments with Rick, later creating a storybook of their times together. (Did the kid really...care, that much, about him?) Rick didn't know what to make of it all.

His fingers shook in spite of himself as he opened up the envelope. Inside was a handwritten letter. It read:

Dear Rick:

You know, this has been a really fun year for me, and I wanted to thank you somehow for making it like no other year I've ever experienced before. I've done things and seen things I never thought were possible. I have you to thank for that, Rick. I'm really glad that you came back, and decided to live with us. You know, at school, I'm kind of a geek and a loner, and the other kids, they like to tease me a lot. When you tease me, I...I know that you don't really mean it...and that really means a lot to me. You're the best kind of friend that I could have ever asked for. You're not just my Grandpa. You're more than that. You're my first real best friend, Rick.

Here's to more crazy adventures together with you.

Happy Birthday.

Love,

your Grandson and friend,

Morty

By the time he was done reading, the words were blurry and he could barely see them. Before he lost his nerve, Rick quickly crumpled up the piece of paper, along with the box, bowtie and wrapping paper, tossed it all in the trash can, tied up the bag, and brought it out to the street corner.

The kid would have to learn the hard way, was how he decided to look at it.

He was nobody's best friend.


	4. Chapter 4

Morty didn't see much of Rick for the rest of that week. (In fact if Morty didn't know better, it seemed like Rick was purposefully trying to avoid him.) Whenever he came into the kitchen to get a snack or a drink, if Rick was in there, his grandfather halted like a deer in the headlights, before sprinting off down the hall (as if he couldn't stand to be in the same room with Morty for one more second). It troubled Morty, and confused him, but more than that-it hurt. And he didn't understand why Rick would pretend he hadn't gotten the gift he'd so carefully put together. It had taken him a whole two hours to arrange that photo album. The fact that Rick hadn't so much as acknowledged that he'd seen it left Morty wondering why he bothered going on these trips with Rick at all.

Since their strained and awkward exchange in the garage, Rick hadn't asked him to go on any more adventures, and that stung most of all...it was almost like Rick had forgotten about him, and Morty hated to admit it, but now he fully regretted having given his grandfather a gift of any kind, much less an extremely personal one. (He was beginning to understand, in spite of himself, why his grandfather didn't get too close to anyone...in the end, they only let you down.)

One afternoon his mother was home early from work (they'd had a slow day at the horse clinic) and she was spending a rare moment in the kitchen with her son as Morty had his usual after-school snack of chocolate milk and cookies.

Today, their small talk felt unusually hollow and contrived, and Morty couldn't suppress the urge any longer; he had to tell somebody what was on his mind (if he didn't, it very well might eat him alive).

"Mom..." Morty began hesitantly, glancing reluctantly upwards, "...has Rick seemed a little...uh I dunno...distant...lately?"

His mother paused from dicing the onions for dinner (they were having stew) and stared at him blankly. "Why do you say that, Morty?" she asked with restrained bewilderment.

"...because..." Morty swallowed hard the lump back down his throat. "...he's...um, been...kinda...spending a lot of time...alone...lately?" He quickly shoveled a chocolate chip cookie into his mouth, afraid he might start bawling if he didn't-and crying in front of his mother was the last thing Morty needed on a day-no make that week-like this.

"He has?" His mother looked genuinely surprised by this statement. "Well, Morty...I can't say I've noticed that, but...if it's true...why do you think that is?" As she spoke, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to encourage him to continue; her gesture nearly made Morty burst into tears.

Morty squeezed his eyes shut tight. Thinking to himself: If Rick were there right now he'd be laughing in his face...Calling him a "little pussy"...Telling him to be a man.

He hated himself for it.

His mind flashed to the image of Rick sobbing on the floor of his garage, a broken man.

"...um...I-I-I dunno...," he croaked out, hiding behind a listless shrug. "He...just seems like he doesn't want to...you know...do anything with me...anymore."

"Morty," his mother said after a contemplative moment, "maybe...your grandfather just needs some space...some time to himself."

Morty ground his pointer finger into his palm, disgusted with her explanation, knowing it wasn't the truth. "Yeah," he murmured reluctantly, "maybe." He knew this was all he was going to get out of this conversation.

His mother didn't know Rick at all.

The next day, after school, Morty raced home, desperate to use the bathroom (he'd somehow managed to hold it in for two whole periods and his bladder was bursting at the seams). He burst into the house, barely able to walk let alone run as he wiggled his way down the hallway. The door was shut, but that didn't stop Morty-he threw open the door-only to halt in his tracks, horrified to find Rick stooping over the toilet, vomiting his brains out.

Even the horrible smell that filled the bathroom didn't stop Morty from his plight.

"R-r-rrrick, I-I reallly have to goooo," Morty whined in spite of his shock at finding Rick in such a state. He only vaguely noticed with a tinge of concern that there wasn't the usual stench of alcohol accompanying the sickly sweet odor of vomit, but he desperately needed to pee, and he was half-tempted to shove Rick away from the toilet so that he could barf on the floor. "RIIICK! It's an e-e-e-e-emmmergency!" Morty pleaded, "ca-can't you, can't you do that in the tu-tub or some-something!?"

"F-fff-fuck off you little brat!"Rick spat heavily in his direction before turning back abruptly towards the toilet and heaving again.

Morty did the only thing he could think of: he unloaded his bladder into the bathtub, his cheeks burning from embarrassment, hoping Rick couldn't see his buttocks and shutting his eyes tightly so he could pretend no one else was there.

Behind him, it seemed Rick was more focused on his own bodily functions, as he didn't stop throwing up the whole time Morty was urinating. Morty turned towards the toilet, startled to find that not only was there vomit in the toilet-there was also a little….blood?

"R-Rick….," Morty stammered, eyes widening at the sight. "Y-y-you're…." Unable to finish his sentence, he pointed at the toilet bowl.

Rick brought a trembling hand up to his mouth, swiping a smear of blood and vomit across his face. Before Morty could further respond, Rick turned towards Morty, and the look on his face left Morty speechless-he had never seen Rick look so….so….Morty couldn't quite put his finger on it, but one of the emotions was definitely rage.

Morty was about to open his mouth to say something, what he couldn't be sure-mabye that Rick needed to see a doctor-but Rick stopped him with a raised hand. "D-don't," Rick muttered, "j-just….get the f-FUCK out of here, Morty."

Morty's shoulders sank with defeat, as did his heart. Reluctantly, he turned around and made his way towards the door, stepping as slowly as he could-hoping with each step that Rick might change his mind (it never happened). It was becoming painfully clear that, even with all the things they'd been through together, it seemed that no matter what he did, Rick didn't want anything to do with him now. He'd ruined one of the greatest friendships he'd ever had in his life….and Morty didn't even understand why.


	5. Chapter 5

When Squanchy arrived, he wasn't surprised to find Rick was sitting in the farthest corner of the bar, out of sight from their noisy and boisterous neighbors. A ring of smoke seemed to encapsulate him, and when he slid into the opposite seat, Rick greeted him with dull, unblinking eyes.

"About time you showed the fuck up," Rick snorted into his beer. "Thought I'd picked the, the wrong guy….that you didn't have it in you-"

"Squanch that, Rick-O, you know me better than that!" In the blink of an eye, Squanchy proudly produced a nondescript black bag and shoving it across the table towards Rick's anxiously accepting fingers. "Now-remember Rick," Sqaunchy added carefully, "this ain't no cure-all. It just…." The cat-like creature shifted his eyes uncomfortably. "...delays the….inevitable."

"Yeah alright I know, I know." Rick quickly unzipped the bag and carefully inspected the items inside. "Look-you're sure you got the right stuff?" Rick demanded his old friend with a rarely seen urgency. "This shit-it's supERP fucking expe-expensive; there's all, alllll-URP sorts of, of fakes out there, just floating around-"

"YO, duuuude-CHILL-LAX!" Squanchy cut him off, waving his hand in the air dismissively, "you gotta trust your pal Squanchy! Would I do 'The Great Rick Sanchez' wrong?"

"You could," Rick snorted, "Or, actually-make that-you will."

"Oh c'mon, man! Squanch yourself up a little...you just got yourself a possible ticket outta this squanchin' mess! Let me buy you another beer and we'll-"

"Done withURP beer," Rick slurred, "Get me a whisky sour."

"Rick…." Squanchy suddenly found himself unable to look his old companion in the face. "Shouldn't you be uhhhh….squanchin' off the alcohol content, a….a little?"

"Why the hell's that?" Rick demanded with instant suspicion, glowering at him defensively.

"Hey-it's none of my squanch," Squanchy shrugged at the floor, "but…..you're looking a little uh…..yellow under the lids there, if you know what I'm squanchin' about…."

"You're damn right that's none of your business," Rick snapped, standing up quickly-too quickly, it seemed, for he would have nearly fallen over, had the table not been there for support-and Squanchy watched, astonished, as Rick shoved himself out of the booth in a huff.

"Rick-man-slooow your squanch down brotha!" Squanchy ran to his friend's aid just in time before Rick hit the floor. "Come back and sit for a squanch," he added as he carefully guided his unsteady friend back to the booth. "How's about we get a bite to eat? My treat."

"Not….not hunagery," Rick drawled. "I…..gotta go….go to bed." Rick half-sat, half slumped back into the booth, and before Squanchy knew it, Rick was snoring loudly. A spittle of drool slid down one half of his face-and Squanchy's eyes grew wide at the sight of it. It wasn't uncommon for Rick to drool, even when he was awake-but what was unusual was that the drool was no longer a dull yellow or green-this time, it was the color of agent orange.

Squanchy forced himself to ignore it. The cat-like creature glanced away, trying hard to ignore the gathering sadness creeping deep into his bones.

When Rick got home, he hastily took the items from out of the bag that he'd been waiting for months to arrive. The pills were so small, it was hard to believe they could do wonders for the human body-but, at this point, Rick was willing to try just about anything.

It had taken Squanchy forever to track down the right seller. Rick broke one of the pills open and carefully inspected its contents with a microscope, analyzing all the elements to make sure they coincided with the real thing. To his relief, he could find no fault with the product, and Rick quickly downed more than the recommended dosage, chasing it along with a bottle of vodka for good measure before retiring immediately to bed.

He was not pepared for the horrific night sweats that greeted him later that night without warning. He woke drenched in his own sweat, shivering; even his hair was soaked in sweat. His stomach ached and screamed at him to expel the contents of the drug out of his system, but Rick vowed that no matter what, he wouldn't let his body win. Gritting his teeth, he screamed as loud as he possibly could deep into the pillow, trying to drown out the unbarable discomfort he felt by the sound of his own voice.

It didn't work. He wound up biting his tongue; the blood dribbled in rivulets down his chin; panic immediately settling in, Rick sprang for a tissue to carefully soak up the mess. His vision blurred as he placed the tissue in a plastic bag, fingers shaking as he ziplocked it closed-it seemed even his emotions were betraying him now. His stomach continued to revolt and to lurch, to whine and complain-he chugged a full glass of water in an effort to calm it.

No such luck. Rick barely made it to the bathroom before both his stomach and bowls unloaded themselves with abandon. He could do nothing but allow Nature to run its course and pray to a God he didn't believe in for all of it to be over. Afterwards, he was so weak, he could barely clean up the vomit from the floor, and the urge to cry was overhwelming, but he knew if he let the dam break now, he might never stop.

It was several minutes before Rick finally managed to crawl back into bed. He only hoped nobody heard him vomiting; the last thing he needed was everyone's anxious concern and questions.

After some time, Rick somehow fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep, but for once, he didn't wake up again until the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey, Mor-Morty! Get, get over here for a sec, willya?"

It was the first time that Rick had spoken to him in about a week, so without hesitation, Morty jumped at the chance. Rick had spotted him through the half-cracked-open doorway and Morty quickly joined his grandfather in the garage.

"Yeah? I mean-uh," Morty blushed, "what...what do you need from me, Rick?"

Rick was bent diligently over his workstation. "Mort, I need you to grab me the pair of twee-tweezers over on the shelf there, and that, that glass full of water, kapeesh? Think you can handle it?"

On any other day Morty would have scowled in rebuttle at his grandfather's typically condescending tone, but today, Morty was just glad that his grandfather was talking to him again. There had been no mention of the gift of course, but Morty wasn't expecting it; he was growing increasingly numb to the prospects of any sort of indication that it had been received, and what was worse, he was beginning to be okay with that.

"Sure," Morty replied with a forecd smiled, and quickly went to retrieve the items from the wooden shelf where Rick kept most of his science-related things.

He was on his way back to the workstation when, without warning, his foot gave out from him-there was something in his path-and Morty felt his body give way from under him-the tweezers dropped from his hand, as did the glass full of water-it hit the floor with a CLASH and shards of glass and water flew everywhere-Morty managed to sheild his face, but several pieces struck his skin, and he yelped at the sting-blood began to trickle down his arms where the glass had made its impact.

"SHIT!" his grandfather shouted.

Morty opened his eyes with horror and stared down at himself, then the broken pieces of glass on the floor, and the puddle of water, which was speckled with blood-and looked up at his grandfather, who was staring down at his own hands and arms, including his face, which had a small one inch cut that had already drawn blood; his arms, also, were beginning to bleed. "Morty..." Rick turned towards his grandson, and Morty was alarmed by the look of horror in Rick's own eyes-it was a look he wasn't used to seeing-and it scared him deeply. "...is that your blood," Rick asked slowly, "or mine?"

Morty stared down at his shirt. It was splattered with blood-but he couldn't tell whose it was. "I...I dunno-"

"ANSWER ME!" Rick was suddenly right in his face, shaking his shoulders, barking in his ears, "YOURS or MINE!?"

"I-I don't know!" Morty whimpered, cowering under Rick's urgency, the crazed look in his eyes that Morty had never seen before. "Why-what does it-"

Before he could finish, Rick's hands let him go, his arms dropping with resignation to his sides, an unusual expression of defeat filling his gaze as he quickly turned away. With his back facing Morty, Rick spoke evenly and dryly to the wall, "Go...go and change your shirt. I'll take care of your mess."

He tried to ignore it, but it was impossible not to notice that his grandfather was visibly shaking….as if he were scared somehow….and that scared Morty, scared him more than anything….becuase what could possibly scare Rick? And why would he be scared of broken glass? It didn't make any sense and that possibly terrified Morty even more. It scared him to the bottom of his core, and he quickly backed out of the room and ran for his own, where he could shut the door and try to pretend it never had happened.

But there were still the cuts on his skin, and the blood on his hands….and Rick wasn't acting like Rick at all….and Morty didn't want to think about what that could possibly imply. So he chose to take his grandfather's advice: Don't think about it.

After sweeping up the glass with a dustpan, Rick got down on his hands and knees and carefully wiped up the water from the floor. There were some spots where some blood-it could have been either his or Morty's-had splattered and stained the floor, and his heart fluttered at the sight of it, making him momentarily dizzied; this shouldn't have happened, and he would have to be more careful-much more careful-from now on.

Still, he knew Morty should probably get tested-just in case-they'd been around each others' blood before, and the thought of infecting his grandson, though he tried not to think about it, scared Rick shitless, and Rick wasn't scared of anything.

Maybe not even death (he told himself-unconvincingly).

Time itself-and the march towards the inevitable-now that, that was the real enemy.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been a week since the glass incident, and Rick was in his garage, tinkering with a new project, trying to ignore the growing pit of nausea that was now a constant companion. He had tried to eat that day but no such luck; the food just wouldn't stay down.

It was hard to tell if the pills were working. (K. Michael had warned him, it would get worse before it got better.) He hoped this was a sign...because otherwise, what was the point? He was beginning to feel too weak to get out of bed. He could barely focus on his current invention, and his mouth was as dry as the driest alien desert. The screwdriver shook in his hand.

He was in the middle of attaching a part when his intergalactic calling machine began to buzz and blink erratically. He let it go to the answering machine, which gave a loud zinging noise before he heard the voice.

Hey Rick...it's Jackson. I know it's been a long time. I thought you might want to know several of us Freedom Fighters were planning a Memorial gathering for Vinnie, and we thought you might want to be there. I know this is...a sensitive subject for you, Rick...but...I know he'd want you to be a part of it. RSVP as soon as you can. Thanks. Hope you're well.

The screwdriver dropped from Rick's hand, and suddenly he couldn't breathe-his vision blurred and Rick gripped the table, trying to steady himself, the words of his former fighting comrade swirling around in his brain. Memorial gathering...for Vinnie...been a long time...memorial...sensitive subject...memorial.

Shit-it was the anniversary of Vinnie's death...and he'd completely forgotten about it. And-a memorial? He was invited? Whose decision had that been? And Jackson knew? (If he knew that much, what else did he know?) Rick hugged his stomach, reeling from the waves of nausea that overcame him as he began to pace the garage, first slowly, then faster and faster, his tongue suddenly too big for his throat.

No fucking way was he going to that memorial.

The nausea suddenly getting too much to bear, Rick heaved several times over the trash can, but nothing came out...spots danced in front of his eyes, and memories began flooding back mercilessly into his vision...

Vinnie, his ever-youthful face practically glowing with pride, as he and Rick both stood back to unveil the first ship they had built together...the scent of Vinnie's cologne as he bent towards the microphone, the melodic sound of his voice as he sang the toughest notes that Rick couldn't manage to reach...

It took all the strength Rick had left to force back a sob. Not this shit...not now...not today.

With sudden resolve, he forced himself over to the shelf and began rummaging around in his boxes, pushing them roughly aside until he came to the one he was looking for. It was a plain cardboard box, simply marked "V". As delicate as he would his most cherished invention, Rick picked up the box, cradling it as one might a baby to his chest. He brought it over to the desk, sat it down, fell into a chair and stared at the box.

He hadn't opened this box since it happened, but suddenly all he wanted to do was look inside.

Everything was exactly as he'd left it: the now dusty notebooks filled with chicken-scratched, handwritten entries...the sweater...the necktie. His fingers trembled in spite of himself as they grazed the leather jacket. Before he lost his nerve, Rick carefully and gently lifted the jacket from its chamber and brought it close to his chest, inhaling the scent of it, the scent that was Vinnie...all he had left of him.

He held the jacket close, rocking back and forth on his chair, trying to calm himself in a pathetic attempt at ignoring the prickling of tears that were beginning to force themselves past his eyelids, unbidden.

Stop crying. Be a man. You're too old for this shit.

His father's voice echoed in his ears like an old song's recording, and Rick struggled to keep himself from screaming, burying his face in the well-worn, but still baby-soft leather. He was beginning to break. It was only a matter of time. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.


	8. Chapter 8

"You see, we are all dying. It's only a matter of time. Some of us just die sooner than others." ~Dudjam Rinpoche, Tibetan Scholar, Yogi, and Master of Meditation

xXx

Before Rick came into the fold, Morty's life had been guided almost entirely by routine: he'd get up, have breakfast, go to school, come home, get the mail, eat a snack, watch television from 3:30 until 5:30, do his homework between 5:30 and 6:30, take a break and do whatever, eat dinner at 7:30, and go to bed around 8:00.

After Rick came into the fold, Morty had gotten used to his grandfather waking him up sometime around 9 or 10 pm and carting him off on unpredictable excursions across the galaxy, never sure where they'd wind up or when they'd get back, and sometimes afraid they wouldn't get back at all.

As Rick continued, without explanation, to create an unspoken distance between them, Morty's life was gradually returning to its original routine again, and he was becoming more and more complacent with the outcome….sometimes even practically forgetting that his grandfather was in the house, as Rick was beginning to spend more and more time alone in the garage.

One day, he was greeted by an unexpected reminder when he grabbed the family's mail and found-to his shock and surprise-a cardboard box, with his name and address on it, and a returning address belonging to someone named Tammy.

Tammy? Morty blinked with surprise. That was a girl's name. He didn't know any girls named Tammy….and, aside from Jessica (who might as well not know he existed) he didn't know any girls period, for that matter….so why would someone named Tammy be sending him a cardboard box that could almost fit in the palm of his hand?

Without hesitation, he tore open the box, letting the rest of the mail fall on the curb, forgotten. There, inside the box, was some strange kind of a...device, that he'd never seen before. It was a small square box of a dullish green color adorned with what he assumed were hiroglyphics written all over the sides. They didn't look Egyptian; it was useless trying to understand them.

Morty knew he should probably show the item to Rick first, but Rick hadn't spoken to him really in….(how long had it been? Weeks?) Morty was beginning to loose track of time. He cradled the box in his hands, inspecting it, and rubbed its sides, feeling the unusual softness of the iridescent, metallic-like surface.

Suddenly, the object began to glow a bright neon green, and Morty yelped and dropped the box to the ground with surprise. It bounced off the grass and lay still. Morty quickly scooped up the object, mesmerized as, all of a sudden, a state-of-the-art holographic image shot out from the middle of the device, which continued to glow so brightly it almost hurt his eyes.

Morty shrank back as an image appeared on the screen. He glanced about frantically trying to make sure nobody was watching, lest they mistook this device for some kind of secret weapon, and as he squinted hard at the screen, his vision gradually came into focus:

There, on the screen, was one of Rick's friends that Morty had met, an alien being named Bird Person, who was half-person, half-bird. He was staring right at him.

"Hel-Hello?" Morty squeaked, not sure in the least what to make of it all.

"Greetings, Morty," came the reply in Bird Person's signature neutral-toned voice, which, while calming, also had an undertone of uneasiness to it that left Morty feeling even more uneasy than before. "Do not try to reply to my voice. This is only an image of my person."

Morty, relieved he didn't have to talk, relaxed.

"I am imparting this message to you out of deep concern," the hologram of Bird Person began, all the while never taking his eyes off of the center of the screen, his voice unfaltering as he continued. "I have been trying to communicate with your grandfather. Several of us that know him have. He has not gotten back to us. It is written as a Freedom Fighter under blood oath that you stay in touch with your fellow comrades and make it a point to inform them of your well being. We also, as a general rule, do not intrude upon our fellows with force. However recent circumstances have been challenging this decision. There have been rumors as of late that Rick is unwell. As his "Brothers In Arms" we want to know the truth and to make sure that Rick is getting the proper care he needs. I regret to inform you that if he does not reply, I will be forced to take drastic measures for the sake of his own health and safety.

Please deliver this message promptly.

Peace among worlds,

Bird Person."

The box was trembling in Morty's hands as the hologram vanished and the device grew dark.

Unwell...proper care….Brothers in Arms...drastic measures...The words swirled around in his unteathered brain, words he try though he might he couldn't avoid.

Morty staggered into the house, making a beeline straight for the garage, determined to get some answers-and he wanted them now.

Sure enough, Rick was right there at his workstation.

Without hestiation, Morty strode with purpose over to Rick, the box clutched tightly in his hands. Without announcing his presence, he brought the box down on the table with a loud CLANG.

The unexpected sound was enough to cause even Rick to nearly jump out of his skin. He whirled around with astonishment, glaring over at Morty, mouth opening in protest-then blinking down with disconcernation at the box, whatever he was about to say immediately silenced by its unavoidable presence on his work table.

"M-Morty what the-"

Morty cut him off as he switched on the device. Once again, the box glowed and the holographic image of Bird Person flooded the room-and just as soon, the image dissappeared, as Rick powered it off. The box glowed dim, and Morty's blood boiled.

"R-RICK! That was-that message was really important!" Morty shouted, flailing his arms about for extra emphasis.

"Ha." To his amazement, Rick turned abruptly back to his workstation, content to ignore the present matter at hand...but Morty had other plans. He quickly reached out to grab hold of Rick's arm, roughly swinging him around-and Rick nearly tumbled out of the chair in the process.

Morty backed up from his grandfather with alarm, staring mutely as Rick finally managed to grip the table with one hand, trying and then succeeding-albeit weakly- to push himself back up to a standing position. Morty swallowed hard as he noticed the presence of veins appearing on Rick's arms he hadn't seen before; he could almost see the shape of his bones. His grandfather's ankles shook as he slid back into the chair at last, looking completely exhausted by what should have been a simple menouver.

"So….it's true-is, isn't it?" Morty choked out bitterly, clenching his fingers together and blinking back tears. He stared down at the floor and blurted, "You're, you're really s-sick…"

"That's what they all URP say, kid," Rick snorted with bitter laughter as he tilted back his flask with abandon, consuming the contents of it heavily. "I'm one sick fucking sonufabitch."

"NO! I meant-I didn't-I mean, I just-" Morty couldn't finish the sentence without risking the release of his tears.

Rick groaned loudly with disgust as he tossed the emptied flask across the room. "For Christ's fucking sake Mortimer spit it out already-"

"You're-" Morty felt himself shaking suddenly, uncontrollably. "You're-you're-you're-"

"MORTY! What the fuck are you trying to say!?"

"You're-you're DYING!" Morty blurted out, "you're DYING, Rick! A-a-and, and you wouldn't even tell me that you're-"

"ENOUGH!" Rick bellowed at once and Morty fell silent, clutching his stomach, his head reeling as all the pieces began to fit together.

"R-R-Rick…." Morty whispered desperately, his throat aching and ready to burst, his hands reaching forward with nothing to hold onto, his lips numb, his own voice shaking in spite of himself.

Without the bat of an eye, Rick ignored his plea and turned sharply away from him. "All of us are dying Morty," he said, without looking back. "Some of us just die sooner than others."


	9. Chapter 9

"All of us are dying, Morty. Some of us just do it sooner than others."

The words were harsh and they stung, but they also made Morty angry. Really angry. So angry that he could barely see straight. All sympathy left him as his stomach churned and his throat constricted with rage. "SO-so-that's IT?" Morty exploded, jumping with astonishment to his feet. "You-you're just going to-to give up!? That-but that's not the Rick Sanchez I know!" Morty ranted, his mind reeling, his stomach aching with a growing desperation and despair. "The-the Rick Sanchez I know wouldn't just-wouldn't-cou-couldn't just-"

"' WOULDN'T-WHAT, Morty?!" Rick exploded as he whipped about with a glare, "wouldn't let my disgustingly perfect, lustful, sexy bodacious body get infected by a mind-numbingly, soul-sucking, life-stealing disease? Or-were you about to say that-that I couldn't possibly have known that the one person I trusted with my miserable fucking existance was exactly the same one who would up killing me? Or-or were you going to say that I wouldn't have let my life turn to shit if I hadn't trusted him, or you, or anyone at all to begin with? Becuase I'll bet a trillion fucking dollars that's what you were going to say Morty-"

"Rick please, STOP IT!" Morty cried out, unable to hear any more as he ran at once to his grandfather's side as he burst into tears, throwing his arms around his grandfather's waste, but Rick immediately shook him off, so violently that Morty nearly lost his balance, but managed to catch himself just in time. "...Rick…" Morty croaked out, but Rick had turned his back and was stonily facing the wall. "...please," Morty pleaded, feeling desperate.

"I'm-I'm done. This, this is it. It, it's the end, the end of the fucking line for me." Morty had never heard his grandfather sound so tired, so defeated.

"No, it's not!" Morty shouted, "We-we have to-we've go and find a-a cure!" Morty shouted, as he waved his hands about wildly gesturing towards the ship for emphasis, "We-we gotta go now, Rick! The-the whole universe is so big-there-there's gotta be someplace, in some dimension, maybe-where, where they've already discovered a cure for this, right? There-there has to be a way, Rick!" he shouted, as he ran for the garage's automatic door, "We-we gotta go now-"

"I'm a fucking scientist, Morty." His grandfather's embittered laughter halted him at once in his tracks. "I can design and create complete worlds within worlds on a whim and destroy them at will. Don't you think if I could have cured myself by now," Rick turned slowly to face him, "that I already would have?"

"Then-then why haven't you?" He blurted the words without thinking and immediately Morty regretted it.

His grandfather's face turned crimson with rage. "Why haven't I?" he hissed, furious, all the while taking dangerous steps in Morty's direction; Morty began to back away in fear. "Really, Morty? I-I guess I'm just such a, a fucking discrace to you, aren't I? Well-if you rhink that it's so goddamn fucking easy-then, why don't you tell me why you haven't fucking done it already yourself?"

"NO! " Morty's mouth bobbed like a fish out of water, as he continued to back away, and Rick continued to close in-desperate, he held up his hands up abruptly in protest. "That-that's not what I meant Rick!" Morty babbled, "I….I-I-I-I don't think that, that you're-"

"At least you're fucking right about something you little shit. You don't fucking 'think' at all." Rick stopped in his tracks and fell abruptly into the nearest chair, looking even more exhausted than before.

Suddenly the garage felt as though it were an endless wasteland, with no end in sight. Morty shivered and dropped, as well, into the nearest seat he could find.

"What in the hell do you fucking want from me, Morty." It was not a question; it was a statement. Morty looked up with shock to see Rick holding his head in his hands. He didn't move from his position. His voice was barely above a whisper.

Morty's voice shook in spite of himself. "Let…" He had to stop for a second; catch his breath. "Let me help you," he choked out in a whisper.

What escaped from Rick's throat then sounded like a cross between a laugh and a sob. "I really thought you'd have known better by now, Morty…." He took a long, drawn out swig from a flask he'd grabbed off the shelf and rubbed at his temples, before turning to stare hard at his grandson. "Nobody," Rick declared decisively, "can really help anyone."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's Note: I don't agree at all with Rick's last statement here, by the way. But this is how Rick feels. And Rick-contrary to what he believes-is not always right about everything. FYI: The sentence spoken by Rick in the last chapter that begins with "All of us are dying", and of which is again repeated at the beginning of this chapter, is derived from the quote at the top of Chapter 8 (as originally spoken by Dudjam Rinpoche).


	10. Chapter 10

When you spent all night in a fox hole, there was only a handful of things you could do: you could talk, listen, or the third option: fuck. Tonight had been a particularly boring stake-out, so Rick and Vincent (or "Vinnie" as he preferred to be called) wound up doing the latter: fucking.

It happened more naturally than Rick would have expected. He'd known from the get-go that Vinnie was gay, but Vinnie knew he had a wife and a kid back home, and didn't know anything other than that. (Rick liked to keep his pansexuality under wraps unless circumstances were satisfactory-and, in this case, he was bored, so he decided- 'what the heck, this guy's cool, I'll give it a go'.

Nobody had appeared at the entrance of Gromflomites' headquarters in hours, so it wasn't too much of a stretch that they'd be in the clear if they 'abandoned their posts' to 'do the nasty' (as Vinnie had so eloquently-and amusedly-put it).

They went at it hot and heavy for quite a bit. Vinnie was a big black guy, well built and robust, about six foot five, and Rick was surprised the guy didn't manage to all but crush him in the process; he was only about five foot eight, and Vinnie was much younger (about half in years, he supposed). It was skill to do a quick one and be quiet about it, so as not to give away your location, and Rick had to bite down hard to keep himself from screaming in pleasure. When he was done, Vinnie let out a satisfied groan, and Rick smiled with confidence as they reclined together against the boulder which was shielding them both from view.

It was about four am in the morning and he was downright exhausted, but this time, in a good way. "Man, Sanchez," Vinnie let out a hearty laugh, "you-my friend-are THE Greatest Rick of them ALL,"-and he slapped Rick abruptly along with a playful winking grin, which left Rick bursting out laughing with aplomb.

"Of course I am you fuck," Rick chuckled good-naturedly, "I'm the only Rick that would let you fuck the shit out of me."

" 'Let me'?" Vinnie howled with a snort, "who decided what here, Sanchez? You aren't exactly a spring chicken you know."

"Thanks for reminding me ya bastard," Rick snorted back as he struck a match, cupping his hand as he lit the cigarette. He passed the Zippo to Vinnie who lit his own in tandem, and together they slid back, looking up at the stars.

"There's my good friend Jupiter," pointed out Vinnie as he took a long drawn-out drag. "You ever visit her, Rick?"

"Not much to see," Rick shrugged dismissively, "nothing but a bunch of rock and ice up there."

"Ah," said Vinnie with a sigh, "but those beautiful gossamer rings!"

"Ammonia-filled clouds of ice…"

"Biggest of all the planets put together…think of the possibilities!"

"...minus 234 degrees fucking Ferenheight…"

"She has her own ladies in waiting' all 63 of them-"

"-that's 145 degrees in Celsius-"

"63 fucking moons, Rick! Can you imagine it?!"

"I'd rather see Saturn."

"Well you and your ring-around-the-Rosy planet can go take your trip and shove it!" Vinnie snapped and once again Rick began laughing.

As his laughter dwindled, the night sounds closed in around them, and Rick found himself looking up at the stars again, but this time, it was Earth.

"...penny for your thoughts?" Vinnie tapped ash on Rick's arm to get his attention.

"Ah, forget about it, it's nothing," Rick lied, scowling as he felt for his back pocket.

"Come on Sanchez. I know something significant is a-brewing up there," Vinnie chided, giving him a playful nudge to his side.

Rick didn't answer. He stared past Vinnie towards the far-away green and blue planet he thought of as 'home'. Home….since when had that word ever had meaning for him? Before he'd met Linda, he'd always been a loner, a wonderer, a dreamer….someone who didn't stay teathered to anything, or anyone.

"You thinking about home," Vinnie questioned softly, "aren'tcha?"

Rick still didn't answer. He flicked at a piece of ash on his kneecap.

"How's that kid of yours doing?"

Rick frowned. He didn't like to talk about family life with his comrades.

"C'mon man, I know you're thinking about her."

Rick shrugged. "She's alright," he lied, knowing that was anything but the truth. Or maybe she was, and they'd already forgotten about him. He'd been gone on duty with the Freedom Fighters for more than six months now. His daughter had to be at least almost two years old now. (Would she still regonize him when he got back?...if he came back?) He was beginning to wonder.

"...are you alright?" Vinnie asked him. The question came without warning and struck Rick by surprise.

Rick let out a languid chuckle. People usually didn't ask him that. They typically just assumed he was fine.

He looked at the man sitting next to him, whose eyes were filled with gentle concern and a sincere yearning to know the answer. He had never expected to see such kindness in those eyes, eyes that bore into his own, stirring something undefinable, but tangible within him….and then Vinnie touched his hand with a soft caress of his fingers.

Rick looked down at the hand and, to his horror, his lip began to quiver, and his eyes began to fill. "...Rick….?" Vinnie questioned, rubbing his hand soothingly, and his heart skipped a beat; Rick tore his hand away, turning his head so that Vinnie couldn't see the tears as they spilled silently down his cheeks.

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, steadying him, and his eyes grew misty and dry; Rick swallowed and tried to compose himself as he stared off into the darkness. "...Do you...want to talk about it?" came the gentle soft-spoken whisper.

Rick shook himself free of the hand, quickly buttoning his zipper, donning his helmet, and grabbing his gun. "Keep watch for me," he said brisquely, "I gotta take a piss." He forced himself to stand on weak legs, and pushed himself willfully in the direction of welcomed shadows.


	11. Chapter 11

The attack came on so quickly, there was no chance to react: one second, Rick was peeing against a tree, and the next, he was on the ground, clutching his stomach and writhing from the intensity of the pain. It was a pain like none other he'd ever felt in his life, and an otherworldly scream burst forth from his lips, as stab after stab of blinding hot pain took hold of his stomach and the inside of his gut.

So...this is it, was the only thought that ran through Rick's mind. This is how I'm going to die: alone, on an alien planet, my insides torn to shreds-"YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS YOU FUCKING MOTHERFUCKERS!" (It was what he would have said if he'd had the strength to do so.) But all he could do was lie there, and all that he could think of was pain. His body shook uncontrollably and his mouth refused to move. He felt moistness seeping through his shirt, and the stench of blood was everywhere. The pain was unreal, relentless, more extreme than he'd ever imagined; it shot through his stomach and down his sides, and the darkness around him seemed to be growing-

NO! Rick clenched his teeth with firm resolve as the seemingly overpowering and neverending urge to slip into unconsciousness continued to close in on him, I. WON'T. DO. IT!

Just as his eyes were about to close, a voice broke through the stillness of his mind: "RICK!"

It was Vinnie. Vincent...Vin was at his side, hovering over him, his eyes wide with alarm and panic. "What the hell happened!?" Vinnie cried out as he stared with shock at the gaping hole in Rick's stomach that continued to overflow with blood.

"Sh...shot m-me…." Rick's voice trailed off and his head bobbed against his chest. He was beginning to lose awareness of his surroundings. Vinnie's face was beginning to blur.

"Hang on Rick! Stay awake for me!" Vinnie was shouting at him, but the pain was intensifying and he could barely hold his eyes open. He screamed as sudden pressure sent waves of unyielding pain through his body as Vinnie tried to clean the wound and used his belt strap for the tournaquet.

"Ti...tired….," Rick heard himself saying as he tried to focus, but he could barely keep his eyes open. Any second they would close.

"Don't fall asleep!" Vinnie shouted, but his voice was becoming more and more distant.

"G-gonna go to sleeeep n-n-now…."

"RICK!" The sound of someone shouting his name over and over continued to echo within his own mind as he fell through the endless nothingness of space.

When Rick finally came to, he was vaguely aware that he was no longer on the painfully hard ground, but on a soft cool bed. He could hear machines beeping continuously nearby and he heard soft whispers all around him. Must be a hospital, was the single coherent thought that managed to finagle its way through his brain. His body hurt like a motherfucker, but he wasn't dead-he'd cheated Death-he was ALIVE! "F-fuckers...gon-gonna ge-get them a-a-all…" he wheezed, every ounce of strength he could muster lost on each shuddered breath.

"Relax Rick. Don't move and don't talk. You've had quite a shock to your system."

"T-the fuck are y-you?" Rick managed to spit in whatever direction the voice was coming from. His vision was blurry, but the brightness of his surroundings made him squint just the same.

"I'm Dr. Farnsworth," said the voice, which had a calming affect to it that should have eased the tension within him, but it wound up doing exactly the opposite.

"Wh-wh-where-" Directly ignoring the doctor's advice, Rick struggled to sit up but immediately fell back against the pillows that were keeping his body propped up in a sitting position. The pain had dulled somewhat to from a searing stab to a stinging ache in his side, but it didn't matter-he couldn't go anywhere, and he was completely and utterly exhausted.

"You're in the hospital Rick," said Dr. Farnsworth as he came around closer to the side of the bed. Rick squinted his eyes so that he could try to see the man's face. He looked normal-not alien….human. "You were shot by one of the gromflomites," the Doctor explained hastily. "We were able to quickly remove the bullet which had grazed your thigh just missing your vital organs. You are an extremely lucky man," he added for good measure, so that Rick could understand the gravity of the situation. "You were also lucky to have been rescued so quickly."

It was then that Rick recalled who had rescued him. In his mind's eye, he saw Vinnie towering over him, his eyes wide with fear and concern. "Vin-Vincent!" he managed to shout, alarm siezing him as he remembered, "wh-where's Vincent? Is-is he here? Ca-can I see-"

"Rick…." There was hestiation in the man's voice as Dr. Farnsworth placed a gentle hand on Rick's chest, slowly easing him back again onto the pillows. "I'm….truly very sorry but...your comrade...he…."

NO. Ricks' breath hitched and his lips went numb. It wasn't true. It was a lie. It couldn't be. "N-n-NO!" Rick exploded as he sat straight up in his bed, glaring, "You-you tell me right now where he is goddamnit!"

"Th-there were complications from injury…."

"NO!" Rick shouted, "you, you're LYING-just-just fucking STOP IT already with, with all the fuck, all the fucking goddamned LIES!"

"Rick," the doctor allowed reluctantly, "we tried the best we could to save hi-"

"Well your 'best' wasn't GODDAMN GOOD ENOUGH!" Rick bellowed, tearing himself from his bedsheets, the pain ripping through him again as the stitches began to come undone; the doctor gasped with horror and ran towards him, waving his arms in a panic.

"STOP! You're pulling out your stitches!"

"I don't FUCKING care!" Rick shouted at the top of his lungs, tearing the oxygen tubes from his nose, "Take me to his fuck-fucking body!" he demanded. "N-NOW!"

"I-I can't do that Rick," the doctor held up his hands cautiously. "Now-you've got to calm down, and get back into bed or we'll have to restrain and sedate you-"

"Then FUCKING go ahead and SEDATE ME you bitches!" Rick shouted as he swung the IV pole towards the astonished doctor, using it as a shield, "Just FUCKING SEDATE ME MOTHERFU-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as two large nurses grabbed him, one stuck him with a needle and all at once, everything went dark.


	12. Chapter 12

"I thought you would have known by now M-Morty," Rick said. "Nobody can really help anyone."

Morty would remember everything later like an old soundless black and white movie: the unblinking expression on Rick's face as he'd raised the gun to his head; how it had gone off with a ear-shattering blast; the way the bullet had richocheted about the garage as Morty tackled Rick to the ground; the way Rick had wrestled him to the floor and punched him in the nose, leaving him on the floor bleeding; the way he'd gone after Rick again, knocking him abruptly to the ground again, this time with a much improvd force.

He would remember with great clarity the sound of the door swinging open with a BANG and his parents' gasps of horror as the sight before them unfolded: that of their son locked arm-in-arm with his grandfather, rolling around on the floor as the younger desperately tried to tear the gun away from the older man's grasp.

The way his father came to the rescue, prying both of them apart, and punching Rick out cold, the gun flying off somewhere into the corner, his mother sobbing somewhere in the distance.

He'd remember bits and pieces of what came after: the ride to the hospital as they followed the ambulance; the sight of Rick tied to a stretcher as they unloaded him through the swinging ER doors. He'd remember the look Rick would give him as he opened his eyes after they'd placed him in a bed in his own private room.

It was a look of pure hatred. A look that said: You think you saved me, but really, you're killing me. You're letting me die a slow death when it could have been quicker.

He didn't know what to say. So he just sat there and said nothing.

Jan, 1995

Getting discharged on medical leave was not the way Rick wanted to leave the army. He wanted to either leave a hero, or die in a blaze of glory. Instead he got sent home with discharge papers and Vincent's only belongings which he was asked to deliver to his sister, his only living relative.

She lived halfway across the country, somewhere in Virginia. Rick went there first before going home. (All the more reason to avoid his daughter's innocent, questioning eyes.)

Alison had been expecting Rick for a few days after receiving the call that every family member of a soldier dreads. She sat in her living room anxiously awaiting his arrival. In her hands was a letter she'd taken two painstakingly handwritten hours to create. It was for Rick, and she'd have him read it when he got home.

They made small talk over coffee and thankfully why Rick was picked to deliver Vincent's things never came up. He told her all the necessary things. That her brother died a hero; that his life was better because he'd known him. (They were things that people say; things he'd heard said about any fallen soldier he'd ever known.) He wanted to say: I knew your brother….really knew him….we made love in the foxholes….we kissed in the rain. He was the love of my life. I would have even married him if I could have. (Of course he didn't say any of this and he wasn't even sure he believed half of it anyway.)

They parted with a polite hug and a kiss on the cheek, and she gave him the letter, and sent him on his way.

He read it after stalling the ship mid-flight to avoid driving any further with tears in his eyes.

Dear Rick…

...I know about what Vinnie meant to you.

He wrote to me about you constantly.

I want to thank you….

...for everything you were to him.

You meant the world to him.

Please know that.

And please know that his dying was a blessing, in an odd sort of way.

You see….Vincent has been sick for a very long time. He told me you always used protection,

so, I didn't think it was necessary to tell you about this, beforehand but….

...he was dying of a newly formed and newly discovered interstellar strain of AutoImmunodeficiency Syndrome known as "IS-AIDS" and...he would have told you Rick, but….he was very ashamed of it and he didn't think you'd love him anymore if he told you he had it. IS-AIDS is a strain only carried firstly by alien beings but is highly contagious, can spread between humans and is, unfortunately and sadly, completely incurable. It can remain remarkably dorment and contained, even managable, for many years if you have the right treatment but this is hard to come by. I'm truly very sorry to have to be the one to tell you all of this Rick. I know it must be quite a shock.

I just want you to know that he loved you with all his heart and never meant to hurt you-

The letter crumpled into a ball inside of Rick's sweat-soaked hand; the handwritten words swam and danced like fireworks before his eyes. Just in time, Rick forced open the window, through which he leaned over and promptly threw up. The letter shook in his hand as he held it over the window ledge, but he couldn't bare to throw it away.

He told me you always used protection….

Oh God...oh god oh god. This couldn't be happening; this wasn't happening….Oh God oh god, oh God oh God oh God-NO. He punched the ship's dash with his fist which popped open, items falling everywhere, but it didn't matter. Nothing did. There was no praying. What was the point? Vinnie was dead.

And so was he.

How could he pray if there was no God to be prayed to?

No God could ever be this cruel.


	13. Chapter 13

It had already been a full day since the garage incident, and Rick still hadn't said a word since getting admitted. Morty had since given up trying to talk some sense into him, as Rick refused to speak to him, much less look anyone in the eye.

Rick wasn't the only one who was relying on avoidance methods. Since being told that her father was being held against his will in the psychiatric wing, Beth had become a full blown mess-sobbing hysterically at times behind the locked door of her bedroom, sleeping (or attempting to sleep) by herself in the den and, more than once, Morty had noticed the bottle of wine left partially emptied and still uncorked on the counter.

Nobody, it seemed, knew where to begin: nor did the doctors, who were already aware that Rick was in distress both physically as well as mentally….but it was taking them an unusual amount of time to diagnose him, and Rick wasn't exactly what you'd call "cooperating".

The doctors had already alerted the Smiths that there was more than just a psychological crisis going on. They had called Beth to come in the next day for an emergency visit to discuss the situation, and it wasn't looking good; when his parents returned home, it was obvious that his mother was on the verge of a meltdown, and his father wasn't looking much better for the cause.

That night the Smiths had a family meeting.

"Kids...your grandfather is...it's not good," Beth began, but had to stop because she was begining to cry again; Jerry took over.

"They think Rick has a...life-threatening disease," Jerry allowed after an uncomfortable silence. "They think that's why he….was attempting to do what...what he did in the garage."

Morty just kept his eyes flat on the floor. He wasn't going to confess that he'd already known all of this. (What could would that do now?)

"Oh my God…," was all Summer could say.

"We...don't know what it is yet," his mother managed to add as she got up to sit next to Morty on the couch, placing a comforting arm around him. "They don't know if it can be cured or….or how much...time he...he has...left….Morty?"

Beth had stopped at the sight of Morty standing halfway through her sentence. Her son did not respond; nor did anyone stop him as Morty, fists clenched, stormed out of the room, leaving the rest of his family in silence.

"Let him go," Jerry said with a sad shake of his head. "Kid's been through enough, hasn't he?"

Unable to sit still, Morty paced back and forth in the garage. A thousand thoughts raced thorugh his brain. So it was true-Rick was dying-but of what? How? Why? What if he hadn't noticed the blood-what if Birdperson had never contacted him-would Rick have just-just-...

Morty couldn't contain his emotions anymore; tears spilled down his cheeks and he crumpled into a ball on the floor.

Now Rick hated him, and he'd only tried to help….and there was nothing else he could do….

Then, his eyes alighted on something on the floor: the small green square, the device he'd found in the mail….He had to let someone know what was happening….and all at once Morty knew who, if anyone, could possibly find a cure….

Morty snatched Rick's intergalactic communications device and punched in the right coordinates.

"Bird Person has received your notification, please provide your identification, coordinates and the nature of your situation."

Relief flooded Morty. "Th...this is M-Morty of Earthscape C-137. R-r-r-Rick is in trouble, he, he needs your help..." Morty faltered, his voice lowering to barely a whisper as a single tear rolled down his cheek. "Bi-Bird Pe-Person…." Morty forced the words out of his mouth before he could retract them: "He's dying."


	14. Chapter 14

The next day--a Saturday---around 3pm exactly---the doorbell rang. Jerry, hoping for a distraction from his family members’ sad faces and misery, popped up from the couch with a shout of “Someone’s at the door!” and raced to be first to see who it was. 

He was greeted with a most curious sight: a visitor who appeared to be a man dressed in a very detailed, incredibly crafted---bird?---costume. Jerry nearly tripped over his own two feet, blinking in astonishment, letting his jaw drop for a split second before quickly snapping back to reality. “Um, hi….? How...may I….help you?” He was hoping that this was some strange new selling technique (though he couldn’t imagine what this man could possibly be selling.) 

“Greetings, I am not in need of assistance, but am here to in fact assist you. Or rather, your son, who contacted me on behalf of my old comrade, Rick Sanchez, since he is not presently capable of contacting me himself.” 

Jerry blinked in response. (WTF?) “I’m sorry….,” Jerry stammered, “but who….or….what….are you?” 

“I am a member of the subcategory homo aves sapiens of the classification phalym cordata. I also go by the title “Birdperson”. However, it is very important to note that I am in fact neither person nor bird.”

“What the...?” Jerry mumbled. It was slowly dawning on him that here was a creature not from this planet. “Oh…” Jerry blusehd. “I’m guessing...that you’re here to see Rick?” 

He received a blink or two in response and the following: “I see your species still requires improvement in the temporal lobe with regards to correcting compartmentalization.” 

Jerry did a double take. “...Sorry….what?” 

“DAD! Why didn’t you tell me he was here?!” Morty shouted as he ran towards the two, throwing his arms around their visitor. “Birdperson! You---you came!!!---oh man, you’re the best, thank you!”

Birdperson, however a little taken aback by the greeting, allowed the hug. Jerry watched the scene unfold, completely dumbstruck. “You know him!?” 

“Sure,” Morty smiled as he pressed his face with relief into Birdperson’s feathers, “he’s Rick’s best friend.” 

“Seriously?” Now Jerry had heard it all. After everything that had happened, suddenly there was a strange bird-person creature standing on his front stoop. Now, apparently, Rick had friends? 

Morty didn’t respond, nor did he release his hug right away, even though he heard an awkward throat-clearing noise from his receiver. Birdperson wasn’t quite used to getting hugs (it was not a sign of affection on his planet) but he returned the gesture with a small smile and an awkward little pat to Morty’s head. “I am always prepared to be of service to those who support the cause for Freedom,” he replied simply before brushing past an astonished, mindblown Jerry and following Morty into the house. 

“ ‘Freedom’?” mumbled Jerry as he followed the rest of them into the living room. 

Summer burst into the room when she heard the voices. “Birdperson!” she cried out, running over and also giving him a short hug (which Birdperson once again returned with, this time, an even shorter pat). 

“What---wait---but---” Jerry, at a loss and completely bewildered, gaped at the scene with astonishment. “How do you all know each other!?!”

“Morty!” Summer, simply ignoring her father, quickly ran over and gave her brother a hug as well. “This was your idea? That’s awesome!” 

Morty blushed, equal parts embarrassed and appreciative of the compliment (he wasn’t used to getting them often), and gratefully allowed the hug. 

“Your mother’s not going to believe this,” Jerry shook his head with amazement, raising his eyes over at Morty, who simply smiled back in return. For the first time in awhile, he could breath a little easier---because if anyone could help Rick, Birdperson could.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual I don't own "Rick and Morty". They belong to Dan Harmon and Justin Roiland as well as Adult Swim. Thanks for reading!

Beth Smith was absolutely livid. She stood in the midle of the psychiatric wing, shouting at the top of her lungs for anyone that would listen. “You can’t DO this to him!” she was screaming Morty arrived with Birdperson in tow. “My father---he’s a genius, a brilliant scientist! He’s NOT crazy---and when he’s well he’ll SUE all your asses!”

“Mrs. Smith….” A tired looking male nurse was cautiously making his way over to Beth, “your father has threatened bodily harm to himself and the staff numerous times since his admittance. The restraints are for his own safety….” The nurse coughed uncomfortably, “as well as ours.” 

Beth was visibly trembling with rage as she leaned towards him, hissing with as much venom as she could muster, “My father wouldn’t hurt a fly!” 

“MOM!” Morty ran over to his mother and threw his arms around her. 

The nurse, looking relieved, quickly retreated to allow the family reunion. 

“MORTY? When did you get here?” Shocked but also relieved to see him, Beth leaned down and kissed her son on the forehead. “Where’s your dad?” she asked, scanning the hallways for Jerry---and finding herself staring at a strange looking man (wearing a feather costume?) instead. 

“He---he didn’t bring me,” Morty said proudly, pointing at onceover his shoulder, “Birdperson did.” 

“...Who?” Beth blinked with confusion, then noticed the strange bird-man staring back at her. Beth gaped at him. “Who...is he?” 

“Rick’s friend,” Morty explained. “He’s here to help.” 

“Oh.” Beth smiled as a wave of relief overtook her and, with a warm smile at heir guest, quickly out her hand in greeting. “Thank you.” 

Birdperson accepted the gesture with a shake in return. “It is my duty to preserve the well being of those who serve and fight for Freedom.” 

Beth, too grateful to be embarrassed, smiled back and quickly wiped away a tear. “How do you know my father?” 

“Together we have acquired many scars, made many sacrifices and fought many battles to serve in the name of Freedom.” 

This was news to Beth. “....battles?”

Morty was growing restless; he wanted to get to Rick as soon as possible. “Can we see Rick now?” 

“Honey….” Beth turned to her son, “I need to prepare you for something….” Morty was astonished to find newfound tears in her eyes. Too terrified to know why, he couldn’t speak, only listened with horror as Beth continued, “....they...they had to restrain him. He….isn’t cooperating.” Beth choked back a sob and hugged Morty close. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted shakily, “he...he’s refusing the medicine. He--he won’t listen to reason….he won’t listen anyone.” 

It took all the courage Morty could muster to force himself to look into her eyes. “I know who he’ll listen to,” he said. “Take me to him.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a Birthday Present for my writer friend RedHead537, author of the amazing and wonderful "Rick and Morty” Fanfic, “The Hole In My Mind”. (If you haven’t read it yet, please do, she’s one hell of a talented writer---you’re in for quite a ride but it’s so, so worth it!) 
> 
> As always, I don't own "Rick and Morty". They are the brainchild of one Dan Harmon and Justin Roiland, and belong to them as well as Adult Swim. Thanks for reading!

Seeing Rick strapped to a bed was not something Morty was mentally prepared for. In fact he almost couldn’t step foot in the room without gagging; tears filled his eyes and his lip quivered. 

This did not go unnoticed by Birdperson. “Perhaps,” he said gazing solemnly down at Morty, “it would be best if I spoke with him alone.” 

“...n-no,” Morty allowed weakly, sucking back bile as he swiped at his eyes, “...I-I’ll be OK….thanks.” 

The nurse, a middle-aged blonde who was standing by Rick’s bed, looked up, surprised to see the visitors. “Hello---this is a lockdown room,” she informed them standing up brisquely to meet them. “We normally don’t allow visitors unless it’s certain hours---who may I ask are you?” 

“I’m his grandson,” Morty explained quickly, “and this is his best friend.” 

“I….see….” the nurse frowned. “...are your parents with you?” 

“Um---” Morty hadn’t expected an interrogation. “...my Mom is right outside.” 

“How old are you?” 

“...15.” 

“Well.” The nurse hesitated, clearing her throat before continuing, “Normally I wouldn’t allow visitors of this nature. But since you are family…” Morty couldn’t see Rick’s face past the nurse, nor had he heard a sound from him since their arrival. “...I will allow you and this man to visit for….fifteen minutes. Tops.” 

“Tha-thank you,” Morty forced a timid smile, keeping it plastered on his face as she left. He then joined Birdperson over by the bed. 

Rick, to his relief, was awake---but he wasn’t pleased. His eyes shifted listlessly between Morty and Birdperson. Morty couldn’t help but notice how pale his face was, and how glassy and bloodshot his eyes looked. There were noticably dark, heavy circles under his eyes. After a moment, Rick’s eyes met Morty’s. Morty’s heart skipped a beat. 

“...you...you really should have let me do it Morty.” 

Morty’s heart sank. Rick hadn’t gotten any better; in fact, he had gotten worse. 

“...why would I….” Morty stammered in disbelief. “I wouldn’t let you kill yourself Rick.” 

Rick simply ignored that. His eyes leveled with his other visitor’s. “Et tu, BP?” he smirked. “Thought of all people you’d understand.” 

Birdperson didn’t flinch. “I do not support self-detination unless no other solutions are provided.” 

“BullSHIT!” Rick spat, at which point Morty jumped as though Rick had undid his own restraints and slapped him across the face. “Y-y-you would do it yourself if---if you were in my shoes, you pussy---you know it, too, dontcha? DONTCHA?” 

Still, Birdperson didn’t bat an eye, even as Morty began to hyperventalate. “RICK!” Morty shouted, “he’s trying to HELP!” 

“HOW?” Rick barked, “does---does he have my portal gun, Morty? Did you---did you know they took it away from me? First---you-you-you humiliate me---then----they kidnap me---then---they fucking take away my-my-my DIGNITY---then---theyy take everything else I have left! You NEVER confiscate a-a-a-a man’s portal gun, MORTY!” 

“I---I’m sorry!” Morty felt himself breaking. He knew any second he might crack. And the last place he wanted to do that was a psyche ward. “I---I was only trying to help you---”

“Well HERE’s a clue!” Rick bellowed, “just---fucking----DON’T!”

Morty couldn’t help it any longer; he burst into tears. 

Rick snorted. “Fucking crybaby.” 

“SHUT UP RICK!” Morty shouted through his tears. 

“Rick. This is not the time to react strongly. I belive I have something that will help.” 

“Unless it’s booze or something stronger,” Rick hissed, “get the FUCK out of here---”

He froze as Birdperson produced, to his amazement, both a portal and, respectively, a lazer gun. 

“Holy shi….” It took a lot to make Rick speechless. “Pers….” He couldn’t risk any more without breaking down, and that was the last thing he wanted to do in front of Morty (or anyone). 

Birdperson just smiled a small knowing smile. 

“Y--you had that the whole time?” Morty was so shocked that he had stopped crying. 

Birdperson turned to Morty, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “This is what we do: you will get a chair, lock and block the door, and I will unrestrain him.” 

Morty glanced worriedly back at Rick, who was watching them with equal amounts of fascination and astonishment. “...but---but what if he---”

“Fucking get me out of this bed!” Rick shouted, “I---I won’t run---okay? Okay? I mean it! I won’t! Just---just fucking get me OUT of this shithole---”

“Jesus Christ, just shut UP Rick!” Morty hissed, “we---we’re gonna get you out---but you have to be QUIET---so---so they don’t know what’s happening,” he added in a calmer voice, “okay?” 

Rick fell silent then, his expression one hard to define, but Morty could tell that somewhere in there he was grateful, and he didn’t see the anger that he had before. Rick still looked incredibly exhausted and weak, but at least he was motivated to let them help. This, above all else, gave him hope. 

“Now is the time Morty,” said Birdperson in hushed tones, “Take that chair by the bed and place it under the doorknob. Make sure the door is locked. Don’t let anybody see you.” (There was a small window in the door; but Morty figured he wasn’t tall enough so that it would matter.) 

Morty quickly grabbed the chair and followed Birdperson’s instructions. 

Just as Morty was locking the door he heard foosteps. FUCK. Morty backed away from the door, first making sure the chair was locked firmly in place, and he heard the knob turn---and then the words, “What the fuck…?” And then the knob began to jiggle, and then came the shout, “HEY! Please---Open this door! If you do not we will have to issue force! OPEN this door RIGHT NOW! You are committing a criminal act! OPEN THIS DOOR!” 

Morty continued to back away from the door, heart beating wildly in his chest, looking over his shoulder as Birdperson sliced through the restraint straps with the laser gun clean as a whistle, and began helping Rick out of the bed. 

Morty watched with alarm as Rick struggled to stand on his feet. “Morty,” Birdperson called out, “punch in these coordinates: 1-12-32! QUICK!” Morty snatched the portal gun from Birdperson’s hand, and then punched in the coordinates mentioned. The green portal opened in front of them instantly, beckoning, calling them forward. 

“Let’s go,” Birdperson declared, and Morty ignored the cries on the other side the door. Instead, he turned and followed the others, and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if anything seems OOC here (for Rick especially). This chap was not easy to write. Thanks again for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an old saying that goes..."Sometimes, things have to get worse before they get better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I don't own "Rick and Morty". They belong to Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon and Adult Swim.

It turned out that the coordinates had brought them to Birdperson’s home. Morty was relieved to find a very comfortable couch, which he immediately collapsed into, along with Rick, who looked severely out of breath. 

“Drink this,” instructed Birdperson as he handed Rick a glass. 

Rick didn’t argue and downed the glass in one go. “HRMPH,” he snorted, face contorted with disgust, “this tastes horrible! What the heck is in this!?” 

Birdperson remained unphased. “Nutrients,” he responded calmly, “that will help you to heal.” 

Morty was surprised to find that Rick had no rebuttle for that, and watched his grandfather pause for a moment, then proceed to tip the rest of the contents back down his throat without complaint.

“Uh Bird...person?” Morty broke the awkward silence, “why are we….here? My...my Mom is gonna get worried when she sees I’m not there---”

“My home will serve as a temporary refuge,” Birdperson explained as he gathered some items together in the kitchen, “and your family will be notified of your temporary departure, as your presence is necessary and critical to the succcess of Rick’s recovery.” 

“N-no cure for death Perse,” Rick rasped at Morty’s side, “y-you of all people….should know that….by now.” 

To both Rick and Morty’s surprise, Birdperson completely ignored his statement. “Rick….there have been many advancements over the years. I have been following it closely. You should know that, contray to popular belief….” Birdperson paused, taking a deep breath before adding determinedly, “ISAIDS is not the death sentence you believe it to be.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Morty noticed Rick had stiffened, looking visibly affected by Birdperson’s remark. An uneasy silence followed during which Rick looked away from them, his body rigid, his breathing quickened. 

“.... ‘ISAIDS’?” Morty echoed, turning to face his grandfather. “R-Rick, what is he talking about? Is….is that what you---”

“Your grandfather has the space version of what humans call AIDS, Morty.” Birdperson kept his eyes on Rick as he spoke; Rick continued to look away. “It stands for Inter-Stellar AutoImmunoDeficiencyVirus.” 

“....AIDS?” Morty’s eyes were as round as saucers as he stared at Rick, whose breath was growing more rapid with each word spoken. “....Rick….” Morty felt a lump growing in his throat. “....what he just said---is….is that rea---really….tr-tr-tr---”

“YES!” Rick whipped around to spit in his face, “OKAY, you little shit? Your grandpa’s got AIDS, okay? He’s a diiiirty disgusting old man---GOT IT? And---and---and guess what?” Rick was on his feet now, pacing back and forth as Morty watched him with horror through the tears in his eyes, “your grandpa’s a dick who---hahahaa---likes DICKS!” Rick was practically howling with laughter now as he threw his head back and cackled like a maniac, “yes Morty---DICKS! Dicks of all kinds, Morty! Wonder what---what your good ol’ Mom would think of that?” 

“STOP it!” Morty, tears spilling over in spite of himself, had covered his ears with his hands. “Please---” Morty choked out. “...stop it!” 

“And you know what else M-Morty?” Rick was nearly delirious from laughter; he was teetering dangerously on his feet. 

“Rick….” Birdperson had stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his friends’ shoulder, trying to get his attention back to reality, but Rick would have none of it. 

“You know what else?” Rick crowed, “your dirty ol’ grandpa loooves dicks more than he loves PUSSY!” 

“SHUT UP!” Morty shouted as he jumped to his feet, hands balled into fists. “You’re DISGUSTING!” he spat in Rick’s face. “I wish you weren’t my grandfather!” Before Rick could respond, Morty ran from the room. 

Rick moved to follow him, but was stopped by Birdperson’s hand pulling him back. “Let him go Rick.” 

The words from his grandson had left a visible mark of pain in Rick’s eyes. “Fuck….” Rick collapsed onto the couch, exhausted. “...what the hell have I done….” 

Birdperson was observing him gravely. “The present is what matters Rick,” he intoned, “and now….you must listen now to what I have to say.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own “Rick and Morty”. They belong to Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon and Adult Swim.
> 
> Author’s Note: I struggled a little with this one. Hope they’re still in character. Enjoy! :-)

"Nope.” Rick shook his head fervently. “You’re...you’re fucking out of your mind, Perse. N-not gonna happen. Sorry. I’m out.” 

“But it’s the only way.” Birdperson’s eyes were unwavering and harshly convincing. 

“No.” Rick’s hand shook as he took the flask out of his pocket. Blast---it was already empty. Dammit. “You---you’re completely over the top nutso! No---no fucking way am I going cold turkey with this shit!” 

“Rick...professional scientific studies have proven that the chemicals in Megaseed juice prevent the process of killing the virus---”

“I SAID it’s NOT going to happen already! So---so just---just DROP it, okay!?” 

Morty, done with pacing in the hall, had overheard the yelling. He’d planned to apologize to Rick, but at the sight of Rick’s face, stopped cold. Rick, upon noticing him, turned towards him with a glare. “Guess you couldn’t get too far on your own there, huh you little turd?” Rick snickered. “Well, you’ll have your wish---because I’m through.” 

“Wait!” Morty shouted, running to him, “what---what did Birdperson say?” 

Rick shook his hand off, eyes narrowed, glaring. “Why the fuck do you even care?” 

Morty’s cheeks flushed with shame and he lowered his head. “Rick---”

“S-URPave it,” Rick belched loudly as he turned to go. “I’ve had my fiUGHll of bullshit today.” 

“Rick---” Behind them Birdperson had gotten to his feet, clearing his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the whole scenario. “I highly recommend that you don’t---”

“Screw you BP,” Rick snapped coldly from over his shoulder. “I don’t need your advice and I never asked for it.” 

“Rick--” Morty’s heart was beating, threatening to burst out of his chest. “Where...where are you going? You---you don’t have any way of getting home!” 

Rick threw his head back and laughed heavily. “Who said I’m going home?” 

“Rick!” Morty rushed towards him, “stop it! You can’t just leave like that! What about---what about Mom? She’d---” Morty tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat but it stayed. “She’d miss you.” 

“Ha.” Rick’s hand was on the doorknob when Morty’s hand grabbed his other arm. Rick froze. 

“I’d...I’d miss you.” It was the best that Morty could muster. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about all the new information he’d just received, but, regardless, he still loved Rick...and Rick had to know how he felt about him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rick muttered, but his hand had slowly loosened its hold. 

“Please,” Morty pleaded, tugging gently on Rick’s hand, “please come sit down…” His voice shook in spite of himself. “Please,” he begged again, sounding so small and scared that he hardly recognized himself. 

His grandfather looked down at him, eyes full of a terrible mixture of exhaustion and defeat. “Okay….okay,” he mumbled, letting Morty lead him back into the living room and over to the couch, “you got your way again kid. Happy?” Scowling, Rick flopped back down on the couch with a sigh that was so heavy it seeme to come from the bottom of his soul. 

“Can I tell him?” Birdperson said then, looking Rick firmly in the eyes, “or should you?” 

“You do it Perse.” Rick let a weary arm fall over his eyes as he leaned back heavily into the couch with a groan. “I’m all out of ammo today.” 

Birdperson turned his full focus on Morty, and began to speak, his voice low and grave. “There is a way that your grandfather will be able to beat this disease.” 

Morty’s heart thumped wildly in his chest. “...how?” he dared to ask in spite of the feeling of dread that had taken its place in the pit of his stomach. 

“He will only survive,” declared Birdperson with conviction, “if there is no alcohol left in his bloodstream.” At the sight of confusion in his younger listener, Birdperson looked Morty right in the eyes and explained, “if he doesn’t have any alcohol in his bloodstream, the medicine can start working.” 

“...you mean…” Morty’s eyes widened and he stared at his grandfather in shock, “...quit...drinking?” His grandfather let out a loud groan in response. “Rick…” Morty gently shook his grandfather’s shoulder. “R-Rick...are you...actually gonna...stop?” Morty couldn’t believe his eyes as his grandfather, without removing his arm which shielded his eyes, gave a small, short nod in response. 

“..Rick…” Morty couldn’t say any more without crying. 

“...’s a long shot, Morty.” Rick’s voice could barely be heard from underneith his arm. “...might even...kill me faster than...you know......but…” His grandfather’s voice was shaking and Morty felt the urge to hug him---but he knew Rick---so he didn’t. “...I guess…” Rick took a sharp intake of air before he added, “...I gotta give it the ‘good ol’ college try’...ya know, right, Mo-Morty?”

Morty’s cheeks were stained with tears by that point. He wiped them away, thanking Birdperson with his eyes, relieved to hear that there might be a way out of everything, that his grandfather was actually willing to give his life a fighting chance---that he didn’t really want to give up---and---dare he think it---that he might actually be okay in the end. “Yeah,” he whispered over the lump in his throat, “that’s right Rick...the ‘good old college try’.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "Rick and Morty". They belong to Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon, and Adult Swim.
> 
> Author's Note: The ending to this story will be bittersweet. I'm still working out exactly where I want to go with it. Thanks again for reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending to this story will be bittersweet. I'm still working out exactly where I want to go with it. Thanks again for reading!

"Things are not always what they seem"  
-Phaedrus, composer of Latin and fables

*****************

It always amazed Rick Sanchez how easily people fell for his lies. It was getting easier every time, to the point of being almost effortless. He'd connivingly managed to somehow convince both Morty and Birdperson (a friend whose intelligence he didn't consider an equal, but respected) that he was completely and utterly, blindly willing to go along with their stupid little interventon. What Birdperson didn't know was that he'd already concocted a plan of his own-which was to get the hell out of here-and he was going to execute it the second he had the chance.

For all of his intelligence, Birdperson couldn't equal his, and had definite flaws. One was carelessly leaving the portal gun he'd used to transition them from Earth to his home world. After Birdperson had left to fetch something he deemed significant, and after Morty had run off like the little self-involved brat that he was, Rick had snatched the portal gun and stuffed it deep into his labcoat pocket.

He'd leave as soon as the others thought he was safe.

The pathetic megaseed juice 'cure' his friend had described was completely groan-worthy, utterly cockamamie lie of stratospheric proportions; there was no such thing. How Birdperson could accept such godawful crap as gospel was beyond him. He was a man of Science after all-if there was a cure so easily within reach, he would heave learned about it far before hand, and he'd have gone off the shit long ago. There was no way it was as "simple" as ditching his favorite alcoholic brew. Just kick the habit and cure the disease-it was all just too good to be true.

They were all probably just fucking with him anyway.

And Morty-piece of shit-didn't want anything to do with him. All that sappy shit he'd said when he was halfway out the door-Rick didn't believe it for a minute. His grandson was disgusted by him now. As he should be-he'd be even more disgusted if he'd known that Rick had cheated on his grandmother with a man, leaving most of his daughter's childhood fatherless. It was not the kind of legacy he'd wanted to leave behind...but since when did Ricks care about legacies?

All he wanted was to live….

...or die….(if it must be-and it must)

...in peace….

...and on HIS terms.

...If he could help it.

Rick sat on the couch, bottle in hand, already halfway emptied in the past half hour he'd started to drink it. He only half-listened to Birdperson's conversation with Morty form the safety of the living room, as his friend carefully explained to his grandson that he would be departing shortly to retrieve the medicine from his own house, and try to explain to his daughter why neither himself or his grandson was returning home anytime soon. Rick had to smirk at that-Beth would be anything but understanding. She would be completely irate, and probably throw a total fit-and if there was anything to be hopeful for, Rick was simply glad he wasn't going to be there to get an earful of that wretched, dischorded symphony of sounds.

The two were almost out of earshot; he could barely hear their words now. Rick let his lips fall into a lopsided grin. He was exhuasted from all the moving about but he couldn't stay here one second longer, waiting to be babied and treated like an invalid. No, RIck Sanchez always had the better plan: and this one was going to gain him something more than freedom.

As quietly as he could, he stood up, pointing the portal gun at the far wall of the living room. The familiar green began to churn in front of him, calling him forward, and, as if in a trance, Rick carelessly dropped the empty bottle he'd been holding with a clang to the floor.

By the time Birdperson heard the sound and realized something might be amiss, and by the time he and Morty came into the room, both the portal-and Rick-had vanished, neither leaving behind a trace.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own “Rick and Morty”. They belong to Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon of Adult Swim. 
> 
> A/N: Expect it to get a little dark for awhile. As I said, this ending will be bittersweet, but a bit more on the tarter side. You have been warned.

Krombopulos Michael didn’t usually meet clients out in the open, but Rick Sanchez C137 was an exception that proved the rule. The man had done a lot for him over the years, and he was willing to repay him in any way necessary. 

They met in the back of a seedy bar that could have cared less if its criminals were patrons. Though it was unusual to see Rick wearing dark shades that obscured his eyes from view, K. Michael knew better than to question anything the other man did. As everyone that knew about him were well aware, Rick Sanchez was a legend, and you didn’t mess with legends...especially when they always delivered and brought you the goods on the dot, no matter what the odds. 

“So tell me.” K. Michael kept his face as expressionless as possible as he coolly slid a thousand schmeckles across the table. “What can I do for you today?” 

The scheckles were immediately and swiftly removed and pocketed. “I’ve got a voucher,” came the stiff reply, “for one free Rick.” 

K. Michael’s eyes fluttered upwards with an uncharacteristic mixture of surprise and confusion. “But isn’t that something the Council of---”

“I’m done with the Council.” 

K. Michael knew better than to push the subject. “Do you erm…” Uneasy now, he cleared his throat; even though he did occasional business with other Ricks, he was not exactly fond of the Council of Ricks himself. (They were all pompous asses.) “do you….need specifics?”

“As close to my demension’s coordinates as you can find.” In spite of his words his client sounded unusually drained and defeated, and K. Michael was about to ask if he was okay---then thought better of it (Rick Sanchez was always okay). 

K. Michael nodded in agreement. “Okay then,” he held his his claw, “Where and when?” 

“The sooner the better.” 

K. Michael leaned back and took a long sip of his drink. C137 was being much more elusive than usual and it was very unsettling. He called the waiter for another round of drinks for the both of them. He took Rick’s silence as a gratuitous thank-you (clearly he would have to be satisfied with the small vial he’d just pocketed in his vest as the only exchange they’d have to today.) “Anything else you need man,” he said. “Just say the word.” 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Morty was freaking out. “Oh man oh man oh man---Birdperson---where did---what are we gonna do!?” 

Birdperson had not expected this. However he liked to face challenges with a coolheaded mentality and he was not he type to let uncertainty get to him. 

“Morty….” Birdperson crouched down to Morty’s eye level and placed a steady gentle hand on his shoulder. “Rick will return when he is ready….for now,” he said sternly, “I must take you home.” 

“But---” Morty couldn’t say any more; he was hyperventalating, having turned into a blubbering mess. He just couldn’t help it; he was scared out of his mind. Rick was more than a little sick; he was deathly ill; he really belonged in a hospital. They never should have taken him anywhere, Morty thought with a sting of shame and quickly building regret. Rick didn’t have much strength left in him. Once he got to wherever the portal had taken him, he surely wouldn’t make it that far...and how could he just leave when he’d just agreed to detoxing? Where could he have gone to? 

“Morty. Your grandfather is an adult. He is responsible for his own well being. We can only point him in the right direction. If there is something he thought needed attention right at this moment,” Birdperson conceded, “then we must respect that.” 

Morty fell onto the couch with defeat and buried his head in his hands. He didn’t know what to do now. What would he say to his Mom? How could he explain what had happened? He didn’t even know where Rick had gone to. 

Rick you asshole….he thought, why did you leave me?


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own “Rick and Morty”. They belong to Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon and Adult Swim.

Birdperson wasted no time in returning Morty to Earth, dropping him off right in front of the Smith family home. Morty would have been relieved to be back home, but he was out of his mind with worry about Rick; as soon as his friend brought them down to a safe landing after exiting the portal, he immediately began to whimper, pacing about anxiously. Birdperson watched him fidget and fret in silence for a moment before he placed two strong hands on Morty’s shoulders, steadying the younger instantly, and looked him squarely in the eyes. Morty, filled with fear, cringed under his gaze and continued to fidget and whimper. 

“Morty,” Birdperson said evenly, as calmly as he had ever been, “I understand that you are concerned for your elder. I have known Rick for many, many years. He has been through many types of challenges that has placed his and others’ lives in danger. And he has always found a way out.” 

“But---but he’s dying, Birdperson!” Morty blurted out in spite of himself, “what if---what if he doesn’t come back!?! What if---what if he hurts himself---what if he just gets even worse?! What if he---he’s just given up entirely?! What am I---what am I going to tell my Mom? Ohhhhh!” Clutching his aching stomah, Morty crouched down to the stoop; his head was spinning. Birdperson quickly sat down next to him. 

“Morty…” Birdperson spoke slowly and carefully so that he could be sure Morty was understanding him. “Your grandfather may be unwell...but he is an elder….and has lived a long time. If leaving---for whatever length of time that may be---is his wish….” Birdperson paused as if for emphasis, looking over Morty’s head and off into the distance, before adding softly, “...then we must respect it.” 

Morty sniffled and straightened up, quickly wiping away his tears. He didn’t want to admit it but that made a lot of sense. “Thanks, BP,” he said with a nod, trying to force a smile across his tired face. 

Birdperson returned a small but genuine smile. “Anytime,” he replied, standing back up himself, “I will always assist those who support the fight for freedom.” Morty smiled even though he wasn’t sure what that meant. Birdperson held out a hand for Morty to shake; gratefully, Morty shook it. “And for now,” Birdperson declared, “I must depart. Morty---until we meet again.” With a valiant cry and a flutter of wings, Birdperson took swiftly off into the sky and soon was gone from sight. 

Shaking off as much worry as he could, Morty turned and headed into the house. He was met with an eerie silence---which was strange; it was a Sunday….where was everybody? 

“Dad?” Morty called out as he walked slowly through the house. His voice echoed back to him. “Mom….? Sum-Summer…..???” 

“Uhhhhhnnnn….” a weak, hoarse, decidedly female voice greeted him so suddenly it made him jump. The noise had come from the kitchen. Morty quickly ran inside to find, to his utter shock, his mother, sitting slumped on the floor against the bottom of the kitchen cabinets, a half-full glass of wine clenched in her hand. Upon seeing someone enter and realizing that it was Morty, her bloodshot eyes widened in shock---Morty froze at the sight of his mother. He’d never seen her like this before. Sure….she’d gotten drunk before, but never had he seen her eyes so red, or her face so flush….and she looked completely exhausted. Her mascara was smeared all over her face; clearly Beth had been crying and getting drunk for quite some time now. Morty’s heart skipped a beat. (Had she found out something about Rick he didn’t know?) 

“M-Mom…..?” Morty stammered anxiously as he crept awkwardly forward. He wasn’t used to dealing with drunk people (only Rick, but that was nothing). His mother was something else entirely. As much as he didn’t want to face it, he forced himself to look in her eyes, and he was horrified by the look of overwhelming sadness that he saw there. It frightened him, but also, he couldn’t help but realize, angered him….no, it infuritated him to the point where he almost couldn’t think straight. Rick had done this to her….he had always known his mother was prone to overdoing it with alcohol when things got rough, but she’d never been this bad. At that moment Morty was furious with Rick…..he didn’t think about anybody else, only himself….never thought about what leaving did to anybody else. 

Fighting back tears, Morty forced himself to crouch down next to his mother. “Mmm-Moooorty….heeey…..” Beth forced a jagged smile towards her son, and Morty had to shift sharply to avoid the sloshing liquid as she waved the glass about. "Heeey there kidddo---! When, when did youuu get home? Huhhn? Is...ahh...my Dad..…the Bastard…..with you….? Noooo? Oh, no, he isn’t?” She answered herself before Morty could respond. “Ohhh-kaaay….” Her frown turned into a childish pout, his mother tilted her head back and chugged the rest of the wine down her gullet. “Goood for HIM,” she declared sluggishly as she scrambled suddenly to get to her feet. Unfortunately her balance---or lack thereof---cought her off guard and she slumped back down, the glass falling from her grasp and toppling to the floor. “Ooohhh….” Beth’s eyes widened at the sight of a few drops of red on her clean white tile and her lids began to fill. 

“Mom….” Morty swallowed hard. “It’s---it’s gonna be okay.” He touched his mother’s arm softly. “Where’s Dad?” he asked carefully, as gently as possible, feeling ill as he wondered how long his mother had been sitting here alone by herself (suddenly wishing he had his own drink as well). 

“At tuh courthose,” his mother slurred, “fiuhling a poLICE report….” To Morty’s horror his mother began to giggle like a schoolgirl, before throwing her head back and breaking into a full-blown cackle. “Like THAT’S gonne make a difference!” she spat out, in between spurts of giggles and gasps, “they don’t understand ANYTHING!” 

“M-Mom….” Morty cringed at the rise in her voice as he gently grasped her arm, “let’s….let’s get you to bed,” he suggested, “okay?” 

His mother turned tear-filled eyes towards him, filled with love. “Oh Morty…..” she swooned as she swayed precariously back and forth, “you….you’re the only good one….” Her lip began to quiver as she added, “don’t….don’t ever leave me….” 

Morty could barely speak or see through the blur in his eyes. “I...I won’t,” he promised. “I won’t---wait---Mom!” 

His mother had passed out on his lap. Panicking, Morty had to shake her shoulder quite a few times before she opened her eyes again. This time, she acquiesced to his assistance, letting him help her onto unsteady feet. Somehow, Morty managed to get his mother out of the kitchen, and all the way down the hall to her bedroom, where she collapsed, finally, onto her own bed. 

Soon she was snoring loudly and Morty carefully brought the bedsheets up over her shoulders, gently tucking her in. 

He left her to sleep then and staggered down the hallway into his own bedroom. All he wanted to do was sleep for a thousand years. 

The last thing he expected was to find an item on his bed. It was an envelope---and it had his name on it. Morty’s heart skipped and he dove for the envelope, immediately ripping it open---he couldn’t believe it! It was a letter from Rick….who, it seemed, had gotten home before he had, only to leave once again. 

His heart thumping wildly in his chest, Morty sat on his bed and read the letter with bated breath: 

Morty: 

I’m sorry for scaring you both and bailing on you but if I’m going to beat this thing, I’ve got to go it alone. It’s a cardinal rule for Ricks that if you have to walk through Hell you do it alone. This shouldn’t take long. If it works and I return you have my promise I will be a much better, kinder, healthier Rick than all the Ricks any Morty has ever known. You might not even recognize me (just kidding). 

Please don’t get into my shit. Also please make sure to watch over your Mom while I’m gone. She’s never handled my absences very well and the last thing I want to do is hurt her any more than I already have. Just keep telling her I’ll be back soon and everyone will be better for it. 

You’re a good kid Morty. Be the kind of Morty I know you can be. 

Don’t let me down. 

~Rick 

By the time he’d finished reading the last words were smeared with the salt of his tears. Exhausted from the ordeal, Morty fell onto the bed and cried himself to sleep, praying that wherever Rick was, he was going to be okay….and return back home safe and sound.


End file.
